RAND SHOWED UP in Trentingham’s entry hall days before Lily thought he would, and the moment she saw his face, she knew he had a new plan. Even from the top of the stairs, she could see hope shining in his eyes.
Her heart leapt in response. Without a thought for her sister standing beside her, she lifted her skirts and ran down and into his arms. “You’ve thought of something, haven’t you?”
“I have, yes.” He kissed her enthusiastically before continuing. “There’s no guarantee, of course, that it will work out, or that even if it does, the evidence will convince the marquess, but—”
“I say,” Kit Martyn interrupted from the doorway, “spit it out already, man.”
“Yes,” Rose yelled down the stairs. “Go on, tell us.” She started down to meet them, moving much more daintily than Lily had. “I’m likely to die of curiosity. We’ve all been wracking our brains for a solution—my sisters and I and our friend Judith—and I want to hear what you’ve come up with that our superior female minds missed.”
Rand laughed. “It’s Alban’s journal.”
Lily’s brow crinkled. “I thought you told me he stopped writing?”
“I thought he had. But it’s possible he simply began using a very good hiding spot. If that’s the case, all I have to do is find it, and I’d wager his plans to kill Bennett Armstrong will be written there in his own hand. No matter how much the marquess wants to believe in his innocence, it will be impossible to refute that.”
“If Lord Armstrong is telling the truth,” Rose put in.
Yes, if, Lily thought. But he’d seemed so sincere. And she had to believe him, because proving his innocence was the only chance she and Rand had.
“Finding the journal could work against you instead of helping,” Rose pointed out. “If it’s found and there’s no mention of ill will towards the baron, your father will take that as proof of Alban’s innocence. Even should witnesses come forward, the journal will give him an excuse to disbelieve them and keep the noose around Armstrong’s neck, so that Rand and Margery will be forced to submit to his will.”
It was an intelligent observation. Annoyingly intelligent. And depressingly true, but Lily couldn’t think about that now.
Hope had taken flight and refused to be grounded.
She clutched Rand’s arm. “Do you really think you can find the journal?”
“For all we know, it could be sitting in plain view in his bedchamber.” Rand crossed his fingers. “After all, it’s been many years since he had to contend with my snooping. But otherwise, I’ll turn the house upside down if need be.”
“And inside out,” Kit added. “I’m going along to help.”
“Thank you,” Lily said, impulsively giving him a hug. “I’m going, too.”
“Lily.” Rand stared at the oak-planked floor for a moment, then raised his gaze to meet hers. “I came to tell you my plans as I had promised, not to take you with me. Before I left, the marquess specifically instructed me not to bring you back.”
Although she wasn’t really surprised, Lily felt crushed. Had Rand’s father hated her that much?
“Nonsense,” said Rose. “The Ashcroft motto is Question Convention, and Lily will do as she likes. You cannot leave her here languishing while you men have all the fun. Besides, she could very well notice something you miss. Women’s minds work in different ways than men’s.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” Kit put in dryly, but Lily noticed him eyeing Rose with approval. “She’s right, Rand. Lily should come along. We’ll need all the help we can get.”
“But I never—” Rand started.
“Never say never.” Kit raised a dark, meaningful brow. “Didn’t you declare your father was done dictating your life? Ten years ago.”
Rand’s shoulders went back. “My concern is for Lily, not myself. She’s going to suffer a rather chilly welcome.”
“Then I’d best bring my cloak,” she said, smiling when Rose laughed.
“Wait!” Their mother appeared out of nowhere as usual. “Where do you suppose you’re off to?”
Apprehensive of letting her daughter intrude where she was unwelcome—and where, moreover, she’d been miserable—Mum at first refused to let Lily go. But earnest explanations from Rand and impassioned pleas from Lily slowly wore her down. Eventually it was decided that the three would travel on horseback for the sake of haste, then return to Trentingham overnight rather than trespass on Lord Hawkridge’s grudging hospitality.
Though Mum had granted her consent, Lily could see she was still anxious about the plan. She hated causing her mother strife, but she knew—and she’d figured it out for herself this time—that her place was at Hawkridge, with Rand. The intent behind Rose’s words may have been malicious, but the words themselves rang true: If she wanted to belong at Hawkridge, she needed to be at Hawkridge.
In fact, Lily couldn’t wait to leave, even knowing the marquess would be furious to see her. It felt good to do what was right instead of what was nice.
And it felt even better to be doing something to remedy her misfortunes instead of sitting here feeling frustrated while the hour moved ever closer to Rand and Margery’s wedding.